After, or All the Infections
by Min Daae
Summary: Cal comes home, but Cal doesn't really come home. Not quite. Oneshot, rating for dark thematic material.


"…_a teenage Cal curled into a fetal ball on the passenger seat, twitching whenever I spoke and pulling out of reach desperately if I unexpectedly tried to touch him." –Deathwish, pg. 306"_

They drove.

It took a fight to get Caliban in the car, to half drag him into the passenger seat as he shuddered and shook like he would shake himself apart, and flinched at every touch, eyes closed so tightly that his whole face squinched up. But Niko got him there, with a mixture of cajoling and dragging, and closed the door, got in the driver's seat, and started the engine.

They drove. Niko didn't know for sure where they were going, didn't even know which direction he was headed, just switched on the headlights, stayed on the right side of the yellow line and followed the road.

Cal didn't speak, didn't stir, except to shake hopelessly, curled into a fetal ball beside him in a mess of shaggy, matted black hair and wearing only Niko's sweatshirt, skin even whiter than usual. The color of someone who hasn't seen the sun for years.

_God. _Niko turned the wheel and swept onto a state highway, unable to stop thinking. Grey light, red and orange flame, nightmare creatures dragging his brother screaming into the night and then gone. And what then? The thought nagged at him. And what then, where had they gone?

"Cal?"

The little dirty ball of teenager flinched violently and curled up more tightly. He said not a word. Niko felt a sudden and powerful desire for his smartass brother back. "Cal, it's me, Niko." Keeping one eye on the road, he turned the other on his little brother. "You're safe. You're back."

From where? Perhaps that question could wait. It looked like it would have to. Still no words, though Cal seemed to shake more violently, and it sounded as though he were mumbling something. When Niko tried to listen, though, it wasn't intelligible, and made a shiver crawl down his spine.

Niko turned off at an exit where a sign indicated a Motel 6 ahead. Cheap and easy. He went to the front desk, half holding up Cal because he didn't want to leave him alone, foisted off their concerns with a sharp stare, and booked it to their room just in time for his little brother to puke all over the floor.

At least the carpet was cheap.

They got to the bathroom and Niko let Cal retch over the toilet, uselessly, as he filled the bath, his brother shaking even more violently. He tried not to think too much about the fact that his brother hadn't eaten anything that he knew of in two days and that there shouldn't have been anything for him to vomit up. That thought led bad places.

What did nightmares eat, after all?

With a shudder, Niko turned to look at Cal, who was still embracing the toilet bowl just to stay upright. He spat once and then said his first words in three hours. "No," he said, "I won't," and then he was back to retching uselessly.

Nik dragged him away from the toilet and shoved him into the filled bathtub instead, jerking off his sweatshirt. He might have flinched at being touched, but the way he was shaking, it was hard to say. "Wash," Niko said, briskly, in the tone his brother never dared disobey.

Cal didn't stir, except to curl more into himself, arms wrapped around his torso and head tucked down so the matted black hair hid his face. Niko tried not to think what it was matted with. Blood. Dirt. Worse things.

He stood and slipped out to fetch a pair of scissors. "Hold still," he said, even knowing that Cal wouldn't respond, and set to cutting out chunks of hair. By the time he was done, little remained of his brother's sleek, dark hair, but nothing remained of the things clotted into it either. He set aside the scissors and pulled out a washcloth instead, and set to something he hadn't done for more than ten years, and washed his brother clean.

When he was done the water was black, but Cal had uncurled a little too, and looked at him with curiously blank eyes, the reflection of his own. "You cut my hair," he said, in a sort of weird voice, and then started to shiver again. Niko felt his stomach lurch and his heart clench.

"I had to. It was matted badly."

That seemed to be the wrong answer. Cal twitched and shut down again, shoulders shuddering once. Niko sighed, heavily.

"Little brother, you puked up everything that was and wasn't in your stomach. I'm not leaving you here alone, so would you come with me to get some food?"

Cal's head snapped up, sudden alarm flaring to life in his eyes, eyes going wide. He stared at Niko in horrified lack of recognition and then, in a sudden burst of speed that Niko'd never seen from him before, sprang out of the bath, across the bathroom, and bolted.

Niko caught him before he got too far, trying to tackle him as gently as possible, but to his surprise, when grabbed Cal didn't fight. He curled up tightly and tucked his head under his arms, but he didn't fight.

That bothered him.

"Cal. Food. I'll get you a hamburger if you want, just – you're scaring me, all right?" He heard the sharp note in his own voice too late and tried to moderate it. "And clothes, you need some clothes that aren't mine – are you listening?"

Cal's eyes slid sideways. "I won't eat it. I won't." He shivered, slightly. "Can't make me."

Niko felt sick and forced it away, taking a deep breath. Centered. Calm. Except not at all.

He shoved his little brother into a pair of pants and a blanket and they got in the car again, ragged hanks of Cal's hair still dripping. And drove. Niko bought Cal a burger at the next fast food place they could find, but his little brother hardly touched it until Niko's temper broke.

"Cal, you need to eat and you're going to if I have to force-feed you, he snapped, and regretted it as Cal flinched violently, hunched his shoulders and curled away. But he ate. It was something.

When they found another motel, this time Cal didn't vomit on the mat, at least. With a little guidance, he found the bed and collapsed limply into it, asleep in moments. Nik sat down next to him, letting adrenaline keep him awake, and thought in graphic detail of what he would do to the Grendels for hurting his brother. It was a futile exercise, but at least a little satisfying. Reaching over, Niko smoothed the blankets over his brother, who whimpered slightly in his sleep.

Not five minutes later Cal woke up screaming, trapped in a tangle of blankets, wild-eyed thrashing to be free. He clawed at Nik trying to get away and didn't say anything, no words, just a scream that didn't seem to require him to breathe. Niko backed off, as his touch seemed to only serve to panic his brother more. It seemed an eternity before he woke up in truth, panting, eyes showing white all around the grey.

"Nik?" His voice was hoarse, and cracked. He sounded twelve all over again, Niko thought, and hated the monsters right then more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. Even the stupid boys who thought Cal would be fun to pick on, because he was small and quiet and didn't have friends.

"It's me." At least he seemed to understand where he was. The perspective meter, Niko suspected, had broken a long way back, if that was such a positive. "Your big brother. Just a nightmare, Cal, that's all."

They both knew better than that, but neither spoke that fact aloud. "Where are we?" He asked, blurrily. "Where are we going?"

Niko shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We'll get there." He had to be certain, had to be sure. Had to be brave enough for both of them. "You just – get better, okay?"

He didn't insist that he wasn't sick, and didn't seem to even register what had been said. "…Niko," Cal said, after a while. "…how…how long were you waiting?"

"Two days," Niko said, softly. "I'd wait for you longer than that, though. You know that."

His little brother lifted up his hands as though to scrub them through his hair, then seemed to remember that it wasn't there and just stared at his palms. "Two days. Jesus."

Niko didn't ask how long it had been 'there'. He could guess, easily enough. "Cal…where…what was it, the place they…"

He stopped. Cal's face drained of all color, and his expression had gone completely blank, though there was something lurking in the back of his eyes; something dark, latent, and reminiscent of a black pit. For a sudden and unreasonable moment, Niko was frightened that that something would leap out of his brother's eyes and devour him whole.

Then he started to shiver. Alarmed, Niko reached over, took his shoulders, shook him. "Cal?"

"Cold," he said, in an odd voice. "Cold, always cold, yellow sky red earth and never – never – oh God oh _God-_"

Niko shook him again, harder this time, and with a strangled noise and an attempt to curl into himself, Cal came back. But this time he wouldn't look at Niko, and flinched out from under his hands. Nik felt a keen edged guilt sharper than anything he'd known before, and knew he wouldn't ask again.

"I'll keep them away from you, little brother," he said, reaching to smooth back the remains of his brother's hair and stopping when Cal jerked away without a sound. "I won't let anything hurt you ever again. They'd have to go through me. And nothing's getting through me."

Cal didn't respond, and Niko sighed and kept watch, as close as he dared, even after his brother succumbed once more to exhaustion, only then allowing himself to push his hair back from his forehead, straighten the loaned shirt, hoping that Cal would come back to him in full, and soon.

Not letting himself believe that he wouldn't. They'd drive more tomorrow. Maybe get to Philadelphia or something. Cal'd always wanted to visit Philadelphia.

Niko's heart clenched painfully, leaving an ache in his chest that didn't feel like fading.


End file.
